


I'm Not Your Doll

by fluffae



Category: Original Work
Genre: 1920s, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Romance, Big Gay Mobsters, Drama & Romance, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Everyone Is Gay, Gay, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Internal Conflict, Internal Monologue, Long, M/M, Major Original Character(s), Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mobsters, Multi, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, mafia, mob, mobster
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-04-21 20:18:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14292663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffae/pseuds/fluffae
Summary: While on a business trip in New York, the wealthy omega Arlo Blanton Jr. accidentally stumbles into the world of the mafia, and is held as ransom. His captor is the cocky, intimidating alpha who the locals call the Mafia King. However, Arlo already knows that King isn't as bad as he likes to make himself out to be.





	1. Prologue (Part I)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! I decided to prioritize writing this piece instead of my fanfic, because, in all honesty, I enjoy making really original content a lot more than I enjoy making fanfiction. This work is entirely my own, as well as all the characters in it. I hope you guys enjoy it!

         It was Arlo's day--his eighteenth birthday, to be exact. The day he became a real man. He stood in front of the mirror and checked himself over, turning this way and that to admire every inch of his attire. He smoothed the wrinkles in the scarlet suit that hugged all of his curves just right. His rich blue eyes glittered with satisfaction upon seeing that, even after slipping on his shirt, the stylish swoopiness of his auburn hair had remained intact. Diamond studs sparkled on his earlobes to match his perfect flashing grin.

         It was the second day of August in 1921, in the thriving city of Los Angeles, California. Arlo Blanton Jr., son of the wealthy businessman Arlo Blanton Sr., was finally old enough to be called an adult. He would step into the limelight to become just as admired and respected as his father and his grandfather before him. In a few moments, he was to depart to his birthday party at his new workplace, where he would celebrate with his new business partners.

         Arlo glanced at his wristwatch. Ah, yes, it was time for his car to arrive to take him to the party. With a final once-over in the mirror, he turned and headed out of his lavish apartment. He didn't rush himself, of course, however. He didn't want to muss his appearance, after all.

         Arlo emerged from his apartment building. He scanned the road expectantly, but failed to spot his car. After a few minutes of impatiently waiting on the sidewalk, Arlo's ride appeared. His chauffer, Emile, scrambled out to open Arlo's door for him.

         "Apologies for my lateness, Mr. Blanton Jr.," Emile, a flustered beta, breathed with a tip of his cap, "it seems the nightly rush is worse than usual tonight. No worries, though, it's a really short drive--only a few blocks."

         "It's Mr. Blanton, not Mr. Blanton Jr.," Arlo corrected curtly as he stepped into the car.

         Then they were off. Arlo tightened the ribbon around his neck with a sigh. His eyes trailed after passing cars. It was, indeed, a crowded night for the streetgoers, as Emile had mentioned. In the back of his mind, Arlo hoped the traffic would die down by the time the party was over.

         It was in those few minutes on the way to the rented party room that Arlo's nervousness spiked. Up until then, he'd felt nothing but excitement about his birthday party, but as they inched nearer and nearer to the location, he realized his internalized fears. It wasn't the party itself that made him nervous--he'd gone to many similar occasions before with his father--it was the significance behind it. It was time for Arlo to become his own person, rather than his father's son, and live up to his family name. He was to serve closely under his father in the Blanton business starting just tomorrow. He was expected, from then on, to completely prioritize his work over everything else. Was he really ready for that?

         'Yes, of course,' Arlo silently told himself, shaking off his second thoughts and narrowing his eyes with determination to follow through. 'I was meant to do this from the moment I was born. It's a huge honor and a title envied by many to be my father's right hand man and his replacement when he retires.'

         By the time the car pulled into the parking lot of the party building, Arlo had worked himself back into excitement. After waiting for Emile to open the door for him, Arlo stepped out into the blinding light of flashing cameras. A crowd of paparazzi was gathered outside the building, and they swarmed from the last celebrity to have arrived to the birthday star the moment he emerged. Effortlessly, he pulled his lips into a smile and waved with an energy that resembled that of one greeting an old friend to the cluster of people shoving cameras and microphones in his face. He answered a few questions and then headed inside.

         "And there he is!"

         Applause greeted his entrance. His face lit up with pride and he scanned the throng of well-dressed guests, making eye contact and smiling at each of them within sight. They mainly consisted of alphas, but a good amount of both betas and omegas had attended. That made Arlo even more pleased.

         A tall, middle-aged omega male made his way through the crowd to Arlo. He was grinning from ear to ear with a smile that perfectly matched Arlo's. The omega wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

         "Is--is that really my son?" Blanton Sr. chuckled, giving him a gentle shake. "No, this guy is way too handsome to be him."

         "I always look this handsome," Arlo retorted.

         The people surrounding the two of them laughed, and a few of the younger guests blushed slightly. This didn’t surprise Arlo, as he had many suitors, despite his youth.

         A beta woman with beautiful auburn hair, just like Arlo's, seemed to pop out of nowhere. She wore a magnificent gown and had a youthful face full of life; one unfamiliar to her wouldn't be able to tell she was in her forties. Rowena Blanton was the bell of the ball, as always, though her son came in as a close second. Blanton Sr. drew an arm around her waist and waved everyone in.

         "Let's all celebrate!"

\---

         The party started off energetic and lively. Snacks and drinks were handed out and a small orchestra provided relaxing ambience. One by one, business partners approached Arlo, greeted him, and proceeded to kiss up to him. It wasn't anything new to him, of course, so he handled each of them the way he always did--with a smile. The towering birthday cake was sliced and hours of violin music, glowing chandelier lighting, and tailor-made dresses passed. Slowly, guests began to say their goodbyes and file out of the building to their mansions and penthouses.

         Arlo conversed with a couple of the lingering guests, consisting of a timid-looking omega boy about Arlo's age by the name of Rene Eakley and Rene's flamboyant alpha mother, Madaline Eakley.

         "I am glad you were able to find the time to make it," Arlo remarked. "I'm aware that your family has been fairly busy as of late with the increase in demand of your products and whatnot, is that correct?"

         "Yes, quite," Madaline replied with a slight sigh and a shake of her head. Her earrings jingled faintly with the movement. "It seems that the market for locomotives is growing larger and larger every second. My husband and eldest son, Rich, weren't able to come, unfortunately, but my youngest, Rene, found the time away from his studies to tag along."

         Arlo resisted the urge to raise his eyebrows at that statement.

         'Tag along?' he echoed in his mind, and turned his gaze to Rene. 'She makes it sound as though he isn't involved in any of what's going on. Is he not old enough to value experiences such as prestigious parties like this one? If I remember correctly, he is sixteen, so it must be some other reason.'

         Madaline, after finishing speaking, glanced downward at her son and pulled her shiny red lips into a tight smile. She gestured for him to say something with a hand bearing talon-like fingernails.

         "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Blanton Jr.," Rene greeted in a soft voice, bowing so low that his silky raven hair fell over his forehead. He tucked it back in a swift, smooth motion, suggesting that he was accustomed to doing so. "I...have been eager to meet your acquaintance for a while."

         "Please, call me Mr. Blanton. And the pleasure is mine. I have heard many good things about you." Arlo spoke with honesty, which was...surprisingly uncommon when it came to complimenting business partners. It was bit refreshing to make a sincere compliment for once, actually. "I hear you started college two years early due to your advanced skills in academics, correct? Impressive."

         Rene's cheeks turned rosy. He opened his mouth to reply, but was promptly interrupted by his mother.

         "Yes, that is correct." She squeezed Rene's shoulder so tightly that Arlo was concerned that her talons might pierce the boy's suit jacket. She showed her teeth. "My husband and I are very proud of our sons. Rich also went to college early, and graduated a couple years ago."

         'Ah, yes, Richmond Eakley, the famed boy wonder. He graduated college a year early. Very popular fellow; there's no surprise that he couldn't make it to the party,' Arlo thought.

         He opened his mouth to reply, but Madaline's eyes suddenly darted away and widened. She flicked a finger toward a man standing near the exit, still as a statue, but staring intently at their group.

         "It appears our chauffer has arrived. Thank you, Mr. Blanton, it truly was a lovely party." She pulled her lips up in what was supposed to be a smile, and sashayed away.

         Arlo observed that Rene didn't immediately follow his mother. Instead, the olive-skinned teen lingered, and turned his gaze from his mother, who had just whisked out the door, back to Arlo. He appeared to hesitate, then startled Arlo with his following words spoken with haste:

         "M-Mr. Blanton, I know hearing this from someone like me may not mean much to you, but...I really look up to you and your father. You probably get this all the time, but the fact that the Blanton business owners have always been omegas, even your grandfather...i-it really inspires me. Thank you for representing other omegas like me and showing everyone that we can make a difference. Really."

         Another pause ensued. Arlo, taken aback by this purely heartfelt gratitude and admiration, didn't know how to respond at first. One look at Rene's face told Arlo that he was being fully sincere in his words. For the first time in what was probably years of constant flattery from business partners, he blushed.

         Again, before he got a chance to reply, Arlo was interrupted by Madaline. She squawked at Rene across the now mostly empty room. Rene cast a final grateful look at Arlo before hurrying away.


	2. Prologue (Part II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So far, this series isn't receiving a lot of attention (which is fine, I didn't expect much). If you have any thoughts on what's happened so far, I'd love to hear them!

         It wasn't long before all of the guests had filed out of the building, and only the Blantons were left behind in the vast party hall. The three of them made light, sleepy conversation and sipped on beverages until they were satisfied. After about an hour, they all headed for the exit together and stepped into the brisk city air.

         "Oh dear, it looks like the traffic is completely blocked up now," Rowena remarked, gazing out upon the streets, packed with vehicles as far as the eye could see. A breeze hinted at rain soon to come. The woman let out a sigh and tightened her lips at her husband. "How will we get home? I doubt Jarvis was able to make it."

         Before Arlo Sr. could reply, a voice rang out from the middle of the street and to the left.

         "Mr. and Mrs. Blanton! I arrived just in time!" A driver was poking his head out of a car. Arlo immediately recognized Jarvis--his old family chauffer and the former colleague of his current chauffer, Emile. He had somehow managed to squeeze into the traffic flow before it had completely stopped, and ended up near the party building.

         "You're magic! We'll be there in a moment," Arlo Sr. called back, then turned to his son. "Will you be alright on your own?"

         "Of course," he replied without hesitation. "I'll call Emile and see if he's home or out."

         "But what if he's too far away to pick you up for a long while?" Rowena inquired with a look of concern. She took a couple steps toward him, then glanced at her husband.

         "I'll walk. My apartment isn't far." Arlo's reply was dismissive, almost curt. "Don't worry. I'm an adult, just like you both. Hurry and meet up with Jarvis just in case the traffic starts moving again."

         Arlo Sr. nodded and headed off. Rowena pecked Arlo on the cheek and gave him a loving look before following, weaving between the stationary cars to reach the Blanton-owned vehicle.

         Huffing, Arlo made his way back into the party building, where he found the cleanup crew starting their work. He nodded at them in passing as he stepped up to the telephone and dialed Emile's number. He wouldn't be able to answer if he was on the way there. But, lo and behold, a familiar voice answered Arlo's call.

         "Hello, this is Emile Holliday speaking."

         "This is Arlo Blanton."

         "Ah, Mr. Blanton! My apologies, I meant to call you but I couldn't find the building's number. The traffic is so terrible right now that I can't even get the car out of the lot, sir. I swear I tried my best to get it out somehow, but there must be an accident of some kind somewhere, because there's absolutely no spare room on the streets at the moment. I'm truly sorry, sir."

         Arlo tried not to rub his temples.

         "It's fine. I will walk home, since it's not far."

         "Er..." Emile seemed to want to say something.

         "Yes?"

         "Well, not to question your judgment, sir, but the streets aren't very safe. As you know, Los Angeles isn't the most peaceful place in the world, so I don't think it's wise to walk home alone at this time of night."

         "I'll be fine, Emile."

         "Are you sure? I can walk there are escort you, it's no problem." Worry was evident by his tone, making Arlo flinch.

         "It's a very short walk. Nothing will happen to me."

         "Alright, well, I'm not your keeper, sir, so I can't tell you what to do. You...you know you can give me a call if you need me? I do care about you."

         "Yes. Thank you. Goodnight, Emile."

         "Goodnight, sir."

         Well, this was certainly a predicament. But...nothing Arlo couldn't handle, of course. He was sure nothing would happen to him, and even if something DID happen, he felt confident in his ability to keep himself safe. What concerned him most was that he might wear out his shoes on the way there.

         Arlo went back outside and traced his steps to the familiar route home. Emile had driven him down these roads for years now, and he knew where he was going. He passed parked car after car, catching glimpses of angry and hopeless faces through the windows. He rounded a corner and faced even more cars.

         The soft breeze from earlier had grown into a strong wind, which, annoyingly enough, toyed with Arlo's hair. Thunder echoed in the distance. Suddenly, the situation at hand seemed less like a stroll home and more like a race between him and the impending rain. Anxiety built in his chest when he realized that the rain could potentially damage his suit. He quickened his pace.

         Fifteen minutes passed and Arlo was halfway there. The air had grown humid and grey clouds rolled overhead. Arlo stopped for a moment, finding himself at a crossroads. He weighed his options. The shorter route through the alleyway went through a less-than-civil part of the city. He could go around the sketchy place, but it would cost him an extra five minutes or so. Another toll of thunder made him choose. He decisively headed down the alley.

         Arlo wasn't accustomed to being in places like this. The atmosphere was...strange, to say the least. Foreign. He couldn't spot a single clean surface. Rusted ladders hung from the building walls of smoke-stained brick. Cigarette butts, bottle caps, and chewed gum littered the ground. Fast food wrappers, blown along by the strong breeze, rolled past Arlo like tumbleweeds. He grimaced and dodged a puddle stained blue with oil. A man stood ahead, leaning against a door and puffing on a cigarette. He looked down his crooked nose at Arlo as he passed, and blew smoke in his face. Arlo coughed and, although tempted to scold the man for his rudeness, kept walking at a brisk pace. Luckily, he didn't have to weave back and forth through the alley, as his destination was straight ahead.

         Just when he thought he was getting close to the end of the alleyway, he felt something trickle on his shoulder. It had started to sprinkle, and the shower was growing heavier by the second. Panicking, he made a beeline for the nearest doorway, next to which a dark-haired man stood with a thick cigar between his lips.

         "Sir," Arlo started, jogging up to the man and stopping in front of the door. Meeting his eyes, he almost had to crane his neck. The guy was huge--taller than six feet for sure. "Is this your home? May I please stay here until the rain stops?" He spoke with urgency. Every moment, his suit grew wetter and wetter from the rain.

         "Ain't my place, kid," the man replied through his cigar, raising an eyebrow. The alpha took his time in staring down at him and crossing his arms. He clearly recognized Arlo's urgency, but didn't seem to care. "I'm just out here 'cause ain't smokin' allowed in there. The rain don’t bother me. Why do you ask?"

         Arlo's cheeks heated with frustration. This alpha was obviously teasing him, judging by the grin on his lips and the lazily amused drawl of his voice. Why were guys like him so indecent? Nonetheless, he tried to remain polite...sort of.

         "Because this rain is damaging my suit. Sir. May I go in or not?"

         "Where'd you get that getup? Looks expensive." He chuckled at the glare Arlo shot at him and and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "Go on in, kid, it's a motel."

         Without another word or hesitation, Arlo burst through the door and into the sweet, sweet dryness of the room. He took a moment to calm himself, and then took in his surroundings. Luckily, the man outside was honest about the place being a motel, from what Arlo could see. It was cramped and under furnished, but undeniably a lobby. It was mostly empty, aside from a tired-looking man slumped over in an armchair, who Arlo assumed was a guest staying there.

         With a groan, he assessed his outfit's condition, and he concluded that he didn't like what he saw. Thanks to the brute outside that refused to give him a straight answer, he was completely soaked, right down to his undershirt. Doubtless, his birthday attire was ruined. Sure, he could have a professional wash it, but it probably couldn't be turned back to its original condition.

         Sighing, he collapsed (if one could call it collapsing, since he always maintained good posture) into a seat, and pinched the bridge of his nose. He sat and listened to the rain pouring outside and the dripping of his clothes on the off-white tile floor. He ran his fingers through his damp hair, brushing it out of his face.

         "What're you doing here?" came a voice from across the room.

         Arlo looked up to see it was the man slumped in an armchair in the corner. He narrowed his eyes with confusion.

         "Pardon?"

         "What are you doing here? You don't belong in this part of town." The man leaned forward in his seat, squinting back. "It's obvious."

         "Well, I was just traveling through and got caught in the rain. I don't want to ruin my clothes, so I stopped here."

         The man huffed, before grunting out his next words quietly, as though he didn't care whether Arlo could hear him or not.

         "Figures. Better act while I have the chance, then."

         Arlo hesitated. He felt a strange vibe emanating from the man's direction. Cautiously, he began to reply.

         "I'm...not sure I understand--"

         Arlo's voice cut off when the man stood up and began walking toward him. His muscles tensed and an unfamiliar scent reached his nose. Whatever it was, it was coming from that man, and it made Arlo want to run away. Run where, though? At that point, he was cornered, with the source of the scent looming over him. Instead, he froze, like a deer in the headlights, meeting the man's gaze through wide eyes.

         "Give me your jewelry. Now."


	3. Prologue (Part III)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy. <3 Don't worry, this is the last prologue chapter!

         "Wait--"

         Before Arlo could register what was going on, the man was hoisting him into the air by the collar of his dress shirt. His toes dangled an inch above the ground and their noses were an inch apart. The scowl of determination on the aggressor's face said loud and clear that he wasn't leaving without taking the jewels adorning Arlo.

         "Either you hand over your jewelry this second, or I TAKE it," the man insisted, giving Arlo a shake. The smell of his breath made Arlo's nose wrinkle. Despite it all, the omega was more annoyed than afraid. He frowned back at his aggressor.

         "Get your filthy hands off of me," he spat, ignoring the trembling in his legs and the subtle tremor in his own voice.

         The man snarled and threw Arlo onto the floor. Arlo yelped, feeling pain shoot through where his hip made an impact with the kitschy tile.

         "Stop--!" Before he could scramble to his feet, the man kicked his chest and held him down by the shoulder. He grabbed his arm and tugged on his wristwatch with haste.

         "NO! That's mine!" Arlo tried desperately to kick him, but the man stepped on his leg, pinning it to the floor. He cried out in agony at the feeling of the thief's heel digging into his thigh.

        "'EY! GET OFF 'IM!"

         Suddenly, with the sound of a thump and a figure darting across Arlo's vision, the weight of the assailant disappeared. Arlo sat up and turned just in time to see the alpha from outside, the one who had teased him, punching the dazed-looking thief in the face so hard that he practically flew back into the wall. The assailant stumbled away, as fast as he could manage, up the stairwell nearby and out of view.

         Arlo's hero flexed his jaw, glaring at where the thief had disappeared, before pacing to Arlo's side and offering him a hand.

         "Y'alright, kid?" The dark-haired man asked with a huff of satisfaction, hoisting him to his feet. Under thick eyebrows, his dark eyes seemed to stare with genuine concern for his well-being. "Never liked that guy. Always sittin' in the corner, like a spider or somethin'. Guess you turned out to be the fly, huh?"

         "I...suppose so. I believe I'm alright." Arlo brushed himself off and tucked his hair behind his ears. He straightened his posture and met his savior's gaze. "Thank you. Very much."

         For whatever reason, the alpha seemed to be unsatisfied with Arlo's answer. He gave him a...look.

         "You're actin' all formal an' sayin' you're alright and stuff, but you're shakin' all over, kid. Ya sure you're fine?"

         At this, Arlo frowned. This bothered him, especially since he knew the man was right. He was trembling so badly that he could easily see it. How embarrassing.

         "I am a bit bruised, but it's nothing I can't handle," he dismissed, curtness creeping into his tone.

         "Alright, alright." The large man gave a great laugh straight from his large chest. He slicked his sopping black hair from his face. "The name is Vaughn Goode," he said and held out a hand. While Arlo shook it, he took the time to take in his savior's appearance. The man was almost a full foot taller than Arlo, muscular in stature. He had a broad face with a long nose, prominent cheekbones, and a peach fuzz of a beard that met his hairline by his ears. He had eyes so dark that it was difficult to tell where his pupils ended and his irises started, but they held certain warmth to them that was unmistakable. Above those eyes were his thick eyebrows, between which was a crease, suggesting that they were often furrowed. However, they weren't furrowed at that moment--instead, they were raised, and his lips were pulled into a smirk. "Like what you see?"

         Arlo was hardly able to hold back from rolling his eyes. Had he not just saved him from being mugged, this man would have been positively unbearable. What's worse was that he couldn't tell whether he was really flirting with him or just joking around.

         Vaughn seemed to sense Arlo's annoyance because he chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder a bit too roughly. "Just jokin' around. Hey, I've got an umbrella, so don' worry 'bout that rain. Listen, uh...I don' like seein' folks get into trouble like that, so...I'll walk ya home, Mister...?"

         "Blanton. Arlo Blanton. But it's not necessary to take me ho--"

         "Shit, you're a Blanton? Didn' know I was in the presence of a celebrity. Hey, all the more reason for me to take ya. I assume ya got some business or whateva' to do, so I'll hurry ya home, how 'bout that?"

         Arlo heaved a sigh and crossed his arms. Even then, ruffled and still damp from the rain, the omega looked as dignified as ever. He had never carried himself any other way.

         "Very well, I suppose," he replied in a grumble.

         "Beautiful. I ain't got nothin' goin' on after this, anyway, so it ain't no hassle for me. Wait 'ere." Vaughn headed up the nearby stairway to what Arlo assumed was the floor with the hotel rooms. A few minutes later, he returned, clutching a wrinkly umbrella in his hand. "Ready to go?"

         Arlo nodded and turned to walk out the door (suppressing a wince at the pain in his leg). However, Vaughn hurried forward and beat him to it, holding it open for the omega to step through. He bowed with a flourish of his umbrella and, in a terrible British accent, said, "Mr. Blanton, sir, after you." What a...gentleman?

         "You do realize that someone being British does not mean that they are high-class and polite by default, do you not? Many consider me 'fancy' and yet I am American," Arlo criticized as he stepped through the door, his hands folded behind his back.

         Vaughn simply chortled and opened his umbrella, raising it over their heads. The two of them, led by Arlo, headed through the alleyway together. Because the umbrella wasn't terribly huge, the two were forced to huddle close in order to keep dry, so close that Arlo felt as though it smelled like he was walking through a cloud of cigar smoke.

         As they made it to the sidewalk, Vaughn piped up.

         "So...if ya don't mind me askin'...what the hell ya doin' there gettin' mugged, kid? Don'tcha got some money-countin' to do at home with your dad Mr. Doughbags?"

         This time, Arlo failed to hold back an eye roll. He had never before heard his father being put in such an immature way by someone. Everyone he knew respected Arlo Sr.--or at least had the decency to pretend to respect him. This man certainly had a way with words, and not necessarily in a good way. The way he spoke of Arlo's father didn't suggest any sort of admiration or intimidation; in fact, his opinion of him seemed neutral, and that...was kind of rare.

         "I live on my own, not with my father. And I was simply trying to take a shortcut through the alleyway to my apartment. I didn't want the rain to damage my suit, so I decided it best to seek shelter somewhere and wait it out. And then...that happened."

         Arlo realized that this was exactly why his parents and Emile had been worried to see him leave on his own. They'd known that there was a chance that Arlo would become stuck in a situation such as the one that just occurred. Had Vaughn not have been there, he would have been beaten and robbed all alone in that dingy hotel. He had made a stupid decision and hadn't been able to defend himself when problems had arisen. He hadn't been able to prove himself an adult, even now that he was legally registered as one.

         Arlo's despair must have crept into his tone of voice or into his expression because Vaughn was staring at him with a frown on his lips.

         "Kid..."

         "I'm fine."

         "No, kid--you're limping."

         It was true. Arlo winced. He had hoped that Vaughn wouldn't notice it. Hadn't he already embarrassed himself enough for one night?

         "Also, ya look like a beaten dog. Your face, I mean... You're just..." Vaughn seemed to have trouble putting his thoughts into words. He huffed. "You're not happy. I dunno why--I mean, you have plenty of reasons to be unhappy--but your leg can't be helpin' ya, so...here. Up ya go."

         Arlo practically shrieked as his feet left the ground and he was swept into Vaughn's arms effortlessly. It was a wonder how easily he did it, even if he was strong, because Arlo wasn't lightweight, despite his slenderness. Vaughn was carrying him bridal style with the umbrella tucked in the crook of his elbow. For the first time that night, Arlo's face heated up in a blush of utter horror. It was incredibly lucky that the street sidewalks were practically empty due to the rain--but that wasn't to say that those caught in the road traffic couldn't see the scene unfolding.

         "Mr. Goode! Put me down this instant!" Arlo hissed, wiggling in his arms slightly.

         "No can do, kid, you've got an injured leg to keep offa'." Vaughn seemed to be enjoying himself. That annoyed Arlo even more.

         "This...makes me highly uncomfortable and I would heavily prefer taking the risk of walking myself to this."

         "Uh..." Vaughn's expression of satisfaction shifted to one of concern. "Okay, well, if you're that serious about it. Sorry." He carefully set the omega down on his feet. "If ya need to, you can uh...lean on me. Jus' don' wantcha to get more hurt..." He mumbled and turned his gaze to the rain-soaked sidewalk. Now he was the one that looked like the "beaten puppy."

         Arlo almost felt bad. It became apparent to him that this man only wanted to help. Although his attitude aggravated him, everything he'd done for him so far had been kind.

         "Thank you for trying to help," Arlo said, suddenly much gentler. He then touched Vaughn's arm, leaning some of his weight into him. "Leaning is fine."

         Vaughn lightened up at this and grinned back. After that, they remained silent the rest of the trip back to Arlo's apartment building. Approximately half an hour passed and they had finally arrived.

         "This is my building," Arlo announced, pointing to the building ahead. He paused and then smiled up at his guide; it was a soft, subtle smile, but undoubtedly a genuine one. "Thank you again, Mr. Goode. Is there anything I can do to repay you?"

         "Nah, nah, it's alright. Can't accept money or nothin' from someone who was just almost robbed, even if he's rich as hell," Vaughn laughed. "It's enough knowin' you're alright. Think you're gonna be able to get to your room on your own?"

         "Yes, I will be fine. I'll take the elevator."

         "Alright. Guess ya gotta go warm up, then. Here, uh...lemme just..." The tall man rummaged through his pockets, before pulling out a crumpled sheet of paper. He tore off a piece of it and then whipped out a pen. "Always keep a pen on me," he explained as he scribbled something on the slip, then handed it over with another one of his toothy smiles. "This is my number. You can uh...jus' call me whenever ya need help or somethin'. Or if ya just want some company, or...whateva'."

         Arlo's smile grew and he nodded. "Will do."

         The two of them paused for a few moments. They stared at each other. Words halted in their throats. Then the warmth of Vaughn's side parted from Arlo slowly.

         "Well...see ya, kid."

         "Goodbye, Mr. Goode."

         With that, Vaughn turned around and began walking back to the hotel, his figure growing smaller and smaller until Arlo could only make out a figure with an umbrella. He realized he had been standing there staring at Vaughn's back for the past five minutes and shook his head. The slip of paper in his palm fluttered with the wind and tickled his fingers as though it resented being forgotten. He looked down and read it. A smile returned to his lips.

         Upon it was a messily scribbled phone number, along with a note on the end that read, "Vaughn Goode. Can't wait to see you again, doll."


End file.
